


Life is a Long Song

by Apostrophe (tangiblewhimsy)



Category: The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Blending Comic & TV Canon, Canon-Typical Violence, Hartley's a pissy bitch, M/M, Slow Burn, Unresolved Sexual Tension (with eventual resolution), he gets better though, more tags to come
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-01
Updated: 2016-06-01
Packaged: 2018-07-11 08:27:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,753
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7040821
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tangiblewhimsy/pseuds/Apostrophe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After ending up in the pipeline prison (again) for attempting to murder Harrison Wells (again), Hartley Rathaway is offered a deal: Help Team Flash defeat a new homicidal speedster named Zoom in exchange for his freedom.</p><p>[Mostly canon-compliant through The Flash S02 E12, spoiler alert for pretty much everything up to and including that episode. Proceed with caution. Rating is mostly for later chapters.]</p>
            </blockquote>





	Life is a Long Song

**Author's Note:**

> Major thanks to my forever friend jedyro, who tolerated and then encouraged this headcanon nonsense from the very beginning.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Team Flash attempts to ambush Zoom and put a stop to him once and for all. Things go awry when Hartley shows up in an attempt to take a second crack at murdering Harrison Wells.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title/Chapter Title Notes:  
> All chapter titles will be lyrics or the titles of songs from bands that have either been referenced by the Pied Piper in the comics or else are of the same era and genre. I'm trying to choose songs that have a general tone or theme which match the feeling of the chapter, and if in the end someone wants the complete playlist, you're welcome to it.
> 
> This chapter title is from [Karn Eval 9 - 1st Impression, Part 2](https://youtu.be/IwSTe9uit48) (1973) by Emerson, Lake, & Palmer

In Hartley's defense, he was smart enough to know how astronomically stupid his plan had been — And that had been _before_ The Flash had decided to show up.

Hartley raced from his scant coverage behind a stack of wooden loading pallets to the slightly better protection of a parked forklift, ducking his head down on reflex as his body quaked with the force of a blast hitting the heavy machinery he'd taken shelter behind. He wasn't sure when Harrison Wells had taken up weapons development, but considering the other lies he'd told over the years Hartley was trying not to be too surprised. While a distant, distracted part of his brain realized that it was amusing that he was more confused by the presence of a gun in his former mentor's hands than he was by the fact that the alleged paraplegic was suddenly _standing_ , Hartley couldn't afford to dwell on that amusement for too long. His ears picked up on the static crackle of electricity in the air and his adrenaline spiked, spurring Hartley to move without waiting for the speedster to become visible.

Turning to face the forklift, Hartley clenched his jaw against the rattling, numbing sensation of vibrations reverberating up his arms as he blasted the heavy machinery with his gauntlets. Metal screamed as it buckled under the force of concussive impact, the likes of which Hartley felt echoed in his chest as he was struck with enough force to send his body flying. Air rushed out of Hartley's lungs as he hit a car hard enough to hear the window behind his shoulders shatter, although he liked to think the fact that he'd hit the forklift with enough energy to send it flying as well had contributed to the distance his body had traveled.

Wheezing, Hartley tried to blink tears out of his eyes and focus his hazy vision. He'd been aiming the forklift at Wells, but the blow he'd taken could have changed the angle and knocked it off course. Before he could so much as catch his breath, however, Hartley choked as he was hauled up by his throat. His body dangled heavily, and he scrambled to grip the wrist of the _thing_ holding him aloft.

If this was the same Flash he'd faced off against a year ago then interesting things had been happening in Central City since Hartley'd left. Though when one considered the disposable nature Harrison Wells tended to treat people with, Hartley could hardly be surprised the other one hadn't lasted very long. This year's model seemed to have come with a series of noticeable upgrades, however, and even Hartley could admit that his appearance now had a modicum of intimidation thanks to the new mouth-less cowl and deadened shark-eyes . Thankfully, this New Flash didn't seem any cleverer than the last one.

"Who are you?" The Blue Flash demanded, voice modulated into a sinister rumble by the constant vibration of speed through his body.

"Blue... 'snot your color," Hartley managed to gurgle before slamming his right palm against his assailant's arm with enough force to activate the Flash Frequency he'd developed from their last fight.

It would have worked better if he'd had time to attune it to the new frequency this Flash was using, as the hum in his ears was just different enough that Hartley knew it wouldn't be quite as effective. However, it had the desired effect of getting the masked monster to drop him posthaste — although it was difficult for Hartley to feel great about that when he hit the pavement with the full weight of his body. His torso seized in pain as what he was sure were broken ribs moved, trying (and failing) to help him breathe.

"This ends," the Blue Flash hissed, the vibration of his voice making him sound murderous. Based on the look in his soulless black eyes, Hartley could only imagine that was fairly accurate.

Hartley managed to push himself up onto an elbow, glaring blearily but defiantly up at his opponent.

" _Acta non verba_ , Flash," Hartley wheezed, somehow managing an unimpressed sneer despite the fact that it felt like every muscle in his body was starting to cramp.

Before he could orient himself enough to put up any semblance of a defense, however, Hartley gasped in pain as the Blue Flash ripped his gauntlets from his hands. Claws — _actual fucking claws_ — shredded his sleeves and the flesh along his forearms as the would-be 'hero' tried to stop the signal emanating from the gloves. Unfortunately for Hartley, he accomplished his goal by hurling the delicate technology into the side of the nearest building, shattering the speaker of one and warping the other.

At almost the exact moment Hartley's tech hit the wall, the Pied Piper winced and dropped onto his back as a sonic boom split the air and a red blur trailed by yellow lightning collided with the blue monstrosity looming over him. Hartley coughed before his body spasmed with pain in response to the motion. He definitely had broken ribs. _Merde._

It was almost a relief to be foisted off of the ground, although Hartley was having trouble determining if his dizziness was speed-induced vertigo or a concussion. The delicate manner in which he was set down was a stark contrast to the rough way gloved hands tugged his head up and around for a quick examination.

"...Flash?" Hartley groaned, finally managing short, shallow breaths which enabled him to feel slightly less sick (but only slightly).

"Don't move," The Flash (the proper, red one) commanded, and Hartley almost had to laugh at the annoyance dripping from his tone. Except he was pretty sure laughing would make a rib pierce one of his lungs or something, and Hartley wasn't too keen on dealing with that kind of internal damage right now — assuming he wasn't already suffering some such nonsense.

Hartley was about to make some drowsy remark about feeling in the mood to go for a run, but before his brain could reconnect with his mouth his inner ear tingled, causing the hairs along the back of his neck to stand.

"Look out—"

A crackle of blue lightning replaced the Scarlet Speedster before Hartley, and as the tickling hum in his ears faded he realized that the pair had taken their fight elsewhere. Propped up against a solid wall, Hartley's world spun dramatically until he leaned over and retched. The silence around him pressed on Hartley's skull with a deafening ringing, and as the adrenaline finally started to wane from his system yellow and blue lights swam along the periphery of his vision before everything finally went dark.

  


* * *

  


Taking a left on 1st Avenue, Barry started another sweep of the city in a methodical grid. He'd already done it twice now, he knew it was futile, but the bitterness of frustration and defeat were so strong in the back of his throat that he had to try one more time.

They'd had a chance this time, a real, actual _chance_. Their plan had been risky, sure, but it'd also been the most solid strategy to capture Zoom they'd managed to come up with to date. Have Harry set a meeting with Zoom to discuss stealing The Flash's speed, distract him while Cisco and Jay lined up a shot to get him with an updated version of The Boot, this time designed to deliver a dose of The Turtle's kinesthetic energy inhibitor, which in turn would slow Zoom down enough for The Flash to come in and stop him for good. It far from a flawless plan, but it'd been _a plan_. Which was more than they'd had to go off of since Zoom had first started terrorizing Central City in his attempts to get at Barry's speed.

Harry had explained about his daughter, explained about Zoom's threats. Barry had promised Harry, sworn to him that they'd help him get Jessie back. He'd been the one to assure Harry that their plan would succeed, that in the end this would lead to Jessie's safe return, and ensure the safety of Earth-2 for them as well — he was going to make certain of it.

Then the Pied Piper showed up and literally blew their cover. 

When once again he found no trace of Zoom, Barry made the trip back to S.T.A.R. Labs, slowing to a stop once he reached the entrance to the Cortex. He was grateful to see that Jay and Cisco had gotten Harry back to the labs, and that he appeared to be okay — at least physically speaking.

"Man, dump his ass in the pipeline once and for all and call it good!" Cisco said, impatience and frustration only barely covering the anger in his voice.

"Cisco, he's hurt, I can't just—"

"Yes, you can! It's his own fault he got his ass handed to him, he shouldn't have been there to begin with. Besides, if he's so hurt that he's going to die then maybe we should just—"

"Cisco!"

"WHAT?" Cisco finally exploded, turning from the desk he'd been facing and staring Caitlin down. "He has caused us literally nothing but suffering the entire time we've known him, and now this stupid, selfish dickhead has in all likelihood gotten someone actually killed."

"Don't say that," Barry finally spoke as he made his way into the room, pulling his cowl back and letting the skin around his face and neck finally breathe.

Cisco jumped at being addressed, not having realized Barry had returned during his tirade. The engineer opened his mouth but then closed it immediately, his eyes darting to the silent form of Harrison Wells before his own face turned a deep shade of red.

"I'm sorry, man," he said quietly, shoving his hands in the pockets of his cargo shorts. When Harry gave no sign that he'd heard so much as a syllable of what Cisco had said, Cisco then turned his attention back to Barry. "But dude, you know I'm right. We can't be wasting time on Hartley, he's not worth the resources."

"The only resources that need to be expended on him are some bandages, Cisco," Caitlin chided, her own frustration and disappointment showing through. "Maybe some painkillers."

"Time is a resource too, Caitlin," Cisco pointed out, his hands pulling out of his pockets so he could slap one wrist as though tapping a watch (the likes of which he didn't actually wear). "And the longer we spend debating this, the longer we give Hartley any attention whatsoever, that's time we don't spend toward figuring out how to stop Zoom."

Caitlin drew in a deep breath through her nose, holding it for a moment as she closed her eyes. Barry wasn't sure what she did in those little moments of meditation, whether it was counting backward from ten or just taking the time to imagine being somewhere where their lives weren't complicated by the weight of having to save or doom the lives of others, but he admired her ability to keep calm and focused. When Caitlin released the breath slowly again and opened her eyes, it was with a steely resolve which brooked no argument.

"As soon as I make sure he hasn't got anything worse than a few lacerations, he's down to the pipeline. And I'll be sure to deal with his hearing aids while I'm at it, so that when we do put him away he won't be able to blast back out again," She said, raising her eyebrows at Cisco pointedly. When he glowered at her but made no further remarks to stop her medical interventions, Caitlin nodded to herself before exiting the room toward the infirmary.

Once she was out of sight, Barry met Cisco's gaze. He could see the pain and anger behind them, he wanted to rise to meet it because at least anger could be useful. Anger had fire and it had energy, it could spur people on to action. As much as he was trying to keep it at bay, however, Barry was having trouble feeling anything other than a bone-deep weariness. He was sure it was just from the fight, just his body doing its best to repair the damage inflicted on it. In the meantime, Barry was going to have to ration his emotional resources.

Which meant taking a deep breath of his own to prepare for a new fight.

"We can't keep him in the pipeline, Cisco."

Cisco's jaw dropped, his eyes bulging as his hands fell to his sides in complete shock.

"Wha— Why the hell not??"

"He's not a meta-human, Cisco, he doesn't belong down there. We can hold him for tonight, but he has to be turned over to the authorities in the morning," Barry explained what he knew Cisco already had to know as he made his way over to the stand for his suit, unhooking the loops around his thumbs which anchored the sleeves to his gloves.

"There's no guarantee he'll see a day of prison time for what he's done, though!" Cisco argued as though he couldn't believe he was having to explain this.

"That's not how justice works, Cisco," Jay interjected, stepping away from the wall he'd taken to leaning against.

" _Justice?_ " Cisco repeated incredulously. He looked from Jay to Barry and back again before running his hands through his hair and gripping it tightly at the scalp.

Before Cisco could continue, Barry approached his friend and gripped his shoulder tightly until Cisco looked at him.

"I get it," Barry said, because he absolutely did.

There was a satisfying sense of control when they got to determine a punishment for the crimes of some bad guy or another — it had been one of the reasons Barry hadn't thought much about the establishment of the pipeline prison to begin with. The fact of the matter, though, was that sometimes they had to let go and allow the system to do its job. If that meant some people they knew for a fact to be guilty were released, then it just meant that The Flash would have more work to do in the future. It was an exhausting and unpleasant thought, but the alternative was to justify the indefinite imprisonment of some people who might be able to be rehabilitated if they were instead provided access to resources and programs. The likes of which no one at S.T.A.R. Labs was qualified or even able to provide.

Cisco's frown deepened but the hard set of his jaw shifted as he finally sighed and dropped his hands again. Barry gave his friend a tired, sympathetic smile.

"Besides," Barry pointed out as he drew back, "We need to come up with a way to counter Zoom, and we need to do it quickly. We haven't got time to babysit a prisoner downstairs."

"Fair point," Cisco admitted begrudgingly. "I'm at a loss for what to do as an offensive, though. Hartley completely screwed us tonight, there's no way Zoom doesn't know what we were going to do. I don't know if I can get a dampener on him if he's not holding still to talk to someone, and he doesn't exactly do 'monologuing'."

"We could always prepare the inhibitor serum as a simple injection and Barry could administer it," Jay suggested.

Barry appreciated that he was trying to be helpful but he couldn't help a flare of annoyance as he frowned.

"I'd have to be able to catch him first," Barry said, loathing every time he had to remind his team of his own inadequacy. He wanted to appreciate their faith in him, but when the result was having to constantly admit he wasn't good enough... Barry would rather they thought with some more focus.

"And you'd have to be able to track and find him before that," Cisco continued. Barry turned his pained expression at his friend and Cisco frown sympathetically but shrugged as he crossed his arms over his chest. "Sorry, bro, but you know it's true. We have to find a way to slow Zoom down... so that we can slow him down. It's the stupidest catch-22 of all time."

"Zoom's frequency," Harry spoke, his voice raw.

The room grew silent as the rest of the team turned to Harrison. He hadn't said a word since Barry had drawn Zoom's ire and moved the fight away from the alleyway meeting place. Barry had assumed that the man was in shock, likely terrified to his core for the safety of his daughter. The pit of Barry's stomach coiled into a tight knot before he tried to swallow around a similarly sized stone in his throat.

"What was that?" he finally asked after a drawn out pause.

"Frequency, Zoom's frequency," Harry said again, shifting on his stool and placing his mangled glasses (they must have taken damage in the fight) on his face. "The technology being used by..."

"Hartley Rathaway," Cisco supplied acidly.

"Rathaway," Harry repeated the name in the same slow cadence he'd been using since he'd begun speaking. It seemed to Barry that he was having trouble, needing to focus on every syllable of every word to try and articulate his thoughts. "His gloves had a frequency which hurt Zoom — or at least seemed to."

Barry couldn't help blinking stupidly as he tried to process that information. Jay appeared equally surprised. Cisco, however, took the information the hardest.

"I- but- no!" Cisco stuttered, floundering over himself as he looked from Harry to Barry pleadingly.

"...He did seem a little slower for a second. I'm pretty sure it's the only way I landed that sonic punch," Barry said with an apologetic nod in Cisco's direction.

"No, no way. We can't be talking about this," Cisco said, coming into the center of the room and looking at each man as though they were conspiring against him. As Barry exchanged a glance with Jay and then at Harry's back, he supposed that in a way they were.

"Guys, come on, we can't be that desperate—"

"Yes, we are, Cisco!" Barry finally snapped, his own voice raising. Seeing Cisco's stricken face, Barry's jaw clenched and he took a deep breath to try and gather himself, the same way he'd seen Caitlin do earlier.

"What other options do we have, huh? Do you have any better ideas?" Barry asked, the sudden flare of anger seeping from him as he held out his hands to Cisco in a gesture of openness. He was willing to consider virtually anything at this point, he really was.

Cisco's expression fell and the red hue of rage in his face from earlier faded to a paler shade of pink due to what looked to be shame. Barry watched as his friend struggled, clearly trying to find any possible alternative to asking Hartley Rathaway for help. It wasn't as though Barry didn't get the resistance, but when it came down to choosing between Cisco's grudge and a chance to stop Zoom, this wasn't even a debate for Barry. When Cisco finally met his gaze again, all he could do was shake his head.

"C'mon, man, what else do we have left to lose?" Barry sighed.

"Uh, pride," Cisco answered easily. Then he heaved a great sigh of his own and picked up his tablet from his work station. "But if we let that stop us we'd be no better than Dickhead McDoucheface, so let's go."

  


* * *

  


The first thing Hartley's conscious mind became aware of was a sense of heaviness in his body. He wasn't sure if anything was pressing down upon him, or if it was the weight of his own clothing, but his limbs felt as though they were made of lead, and when he attempted to shift they seemed about as pliant. It was difficult for him to be too upset about the lack of mobility, however, when even the tiniest shift brought on the pain. Trying to gasp, Hartley choked as his chest seized with a sharp pinch and then a dull ache along his ribs.

 _Ribs_. That's right, he'd broken a few, hadn't he?

"Damn," Hartley sighed, feeling the way his parched lips threatened to split under the stress of speech. 

Taking a few breaths experimentally, Hartley did his best to find the optimal way to take in air that caused the least amount of discomfort. The exercises helped him to focus through the fog in his mind, pushing away the haze of pain and lethargy so that he could take an inventory of his physical condition. The fact that he was still alive was kind of amazing. So much so that Hartley couldn't help being impressed with himself and his hardiness, all things considered. Knowing that getting his ass kicked wasn't a thing people normally took pride in, however, Hartley did his best to focus his hearing on what was going on around him.

There was a disturbing amount of quiet, wherever he was. He wasn't outside any longer, he knew that much, and he was fairly certain he wasn't where The Flash had left him, either. There was a constant hum of the machinery used to maintain a large building — ventilation systems, security cameras making almost silent (almost) mechanical sweeps, the hum of lights overhead. The longer he listened, the more familiar the sounds became.

"Damn," he whispered again as he realized where he was and finally risked opening his eyes.

A medical cot had been crammed into the cell he'd been dumped in, which Hartley supposed he should have been grateful for. Rather than see the presence of his 'bed' as an act of kindness, however, Hartley took it to mean that his medical condition was in no way serious. Team Flash hated him, but there was no way their lot would have put him here unattended if he'd required actual help. Scooting as delicately as possible, Hartley did his best not to make a sound as he rolled onto one side before dropping his legs over the side of his cot.

Someone had bandaged his ribs, which seemed a nice gesture but he wasn't too sure the care was doing any good. When he looked at his hands, however, he was far less pessimistic about his medical treatment. Bright red stains peeked through white gauze bandages stretching from his wrists up to (and above) his elbows. His right arm seemed worse than his left, feeling warm even through the bandages and stretching halfway up to his deltoid. He knew he'd gotten scratched, but he hadn't realized the claws on that _thing_ had gotten him so deeply.

Before Hartley had a chance to investigate his injuries further, he heard the hiss and whir of mechanical parts signaling the opening of a door. It was not his cell door, but the heavy security door that separated the pipeline and particle accelerator from the rest of the labs. The lights in his cell brightened, a cue that his visitors would arrive imminently. Trying to swallow in spite of his dry mouth and throat, Hartley gritted his teeth in preparation before forcing himself to his feet.

The pain wasn't as bad as he'd anticipated, although his back did give a sharp twinge and his head swam dangerously. He did his best to focus on something to ground him, however, not willing to meet his enemies laying down.

"Well hello again," Hartley spoke confidently, playing to his audience. Based on the numbers of feet he heard approaching, there are at least three of them. When he approached the front of his cell, Hartley tried not to let it be too obvious that he was trying to squint into the darkness beyond.

He loathed the claustrophobic little cells that the S.T.A.R. Labs team had seen fit to repurpose as their own private prison for a number of reasons, but most of all he hated not being able to see the faces of who he was speaking to clearly. The bright light within the chamber often washed out anyone beyond the glass door, shining his own reflection back at him brilliantly but reducing almost anyone outside to vague shadows unless the lights in the pipeline were turned on properly. Given the amount he'd grown to depend on watching people's lips and expressions since the accident, it set him on edge to know that all he had to depend on at current was his hearing.

"Hello, Hartley," came a familiar voice.

"Flash," Hartley greeted, letting his lips curl around the name in a smirk. "Long time no see. So glad you weren't put out of commission, the red suit is a far sexier hue than the leather daddy look the new guy's got."

Hartley could hear the snort of laughter that earned him and his smile relaxed into something slightly more genuine. So the two speedsters weren't on friendly terms, that was good to know.

The lights in the pipeline grew brighter, enough to balance out some of the glare from Hartley's cell. He was right at counting three, seeing The Flash all suited up standing beside an extremely displeased looking Cisco Ramon, and of course —

"Doctor Wells," Hartley practically purred, even as his insides turned to ice. "I'd heard you were supposed to be dead since the particle accelerator exploded—again."

If Wells felt any more remorse for this second explosion than he had the first, it didn't show on his face. Hartley's smile evaporated as he clenched a fist, focusing on the sting of his injuries to keep himself as calm as possible. Which, as his pulse began to speed up, he could admit wasn't very calm at all.

"I knew it was too good to be true," he continued, ignoring the presence of both of Wells' pawns. When Wells continued to give him the same disaffected stare, Hartley's anger continued to rise, causing heat to creep up from the collar of his ruined jacket and prick at his ears. "But what I can't figure out is why. Why fake a disappearance and a death? Why for so long?"

"Hartley," The Flash spoke in what was likely supposed to be a pacifying tone. Hartley spared him a searing glance before his gaze returned to Wells, willing the man to answer him. The good doctor remained unfazed, however, and The Flash remained undeterred.

"Hartley," he tried again, "Doctor Wells is dead."

Frowning in disbelief, Hartley finally tilted his head to stare at The Flash sardonically. How stupid did he think Hartley was? To his credit, The Flash seemed to be aware of how dumb he sounded, what little skin revealed by his mask turning slightly pink

"This Dr. Wells isn't the same Dr. Wells you knew," The Flash tried to explain. Hartley's incredulity had to have shown on his face, because The Flash shifted in visible discomfort as he continued. "The particle accelerator explosion, were you in town for it? Were you anywhere around?"

Hartley shook his head, crossing his arms gently across his chest. Hopefully this trainwreck of an explanation would get somewhere soon. So far all he had to go off of was 'this man who looks and sounds exactly like who he is isn't really who you think he is!' Absurd.

"I'm from another Earth," Wells said, appearing to grow tired of The Flash's fumbling. Hartley raised an eyebrow at that, unable to recall the last time Wells was so openly impatient and confrontational. He'd always lured people in with his patient mentor act, it seemed... Uncharacteristic to jump to the point. Uncharacteristically honest.

"When the particle accelerator was turned on last year it was followed by a singularity which ripped a hole in not just space and time, but... the universe, I guess," The Flash said as Wells' explanation seemed to organize the important facts for him.

"Multiverse," Cisco corrected. Hartley spared him a glance but when he saw the same familiar glare from his former colleague, Hartley returned his attention to Wells and The Flash.

There was a beat of silence.

"The multiverse?" Hartley repeated skeptically. "And I'm to believe that, what? Our Doctor Wells died in the explosion and this one came falling through a hole between dimensions?"

Theoretically Hartley knew a multiverse was possible — probable, even, depending on your understanding and acceptance of string theory and braneworlds. The idea that a parallel universe existed that had an exact copy of Dr. Harrison Wells, however, seemed highly unlikely. That he'd find himself in Central City where the 'original' Harrison Wells had resided as well was a coincidence deserving of extreme scrutiny as well. As Hartley observed the faces of his captives, however, he got the impression that he was missing a part of the picture they were trying to paint for him.

"Harrison Wells' death — Our Harrison Wells' death — caused the singularity," The Flash continued, his expression shifting from uncomfortable to pained.

"Come again?" Hartley frowned.

Hartley was an intelligent, calculating man. There was never a moment when his mind wasn't working, when he wasn't trying to figure people out, when he wasn't filling in the end of their tedious stories as they were being told so as to save time. Hartley, for all of his sharp edges and poor social skills, had a fair understanding of human behavior. And yet he was in no way prepared for the tale that The Flash started to tell.

Time travel, alternate timelines, and to top it all off an actual grandfather paradox triggering a singularity. The sacrifice of Detective Thawn seemed admirable, although Hartley wasn't sure he'd ever encountered the man before. He certainly seemed to have a better handle on what steps needed to be followed to deal with a man like Harrison Wells than the rest of the S.T.A.R. Labs morons, although his sense of self-preservation was decidedly lacking. As The Flash came to the end of his story, Hartley couldn't help looking at the trio in front of him over the rims of his glasses.

"Based on the sheer incompetence demonstrated by the lot of you in your harrowing adventures I'd be inclined to believe you," Hartley said before standing straighter and adjusting his glasses. "As it stands, however, I do not. If, as you say, Detective— Thawn, was it? If Detective Thawn was truly this 'Eobard'," and here, Hartley used his hands to put emphasis on his sarcastic quotations, "Character's progenitor, and killing himself caused Eobard to have never been born, then how in the world are we even standing here?"

If Eobard had never been born, then he never could have gone back in time to take over "this Earth's" Dr. Harrison Wells' identity. If that had never happened then S.T.A.R. Labs may or may not have ever been established, and even if it had, there is no guarantee that the same team of scientists and engineers would have ever been assembled. There was also very little reason for S.T.A.R. Labs to focus on the creation of a particle accelerator, which would have meant no particle accelerator explosion, and therefore no Flash or other meta-humans. The fact that The Flash still existed and that they were standing here to have this conversation reeked of bullshit to Hartley.

The Flash continued to frown, rubbing at his head in frustration. It was a habit Hartley had noticed, and one he wondered whether or not the masked hero knew he had. For being a costumed crusader, The Flash wasn't terribly good at hiding who he was.

"As best as we can tell? A younger Eobard from the future was traveling through time in the speedforce, which is kind of... outside of time. The speedforce protected him, which means that he's still alive to eventually go back in time and make _this_ time happen," The Flash said, cringing. Hartley wondered whether or not The Flash understood how flimsy that explanation sounded.

Looking to Wells, The Flash motioned toward Hartley with a nod. For his part, Wells only seemed to catch The Flash's glance out of his peripheral vision, doing a double-take and frowning deeply. The Flash then sighed and shifted, hands on his slim hips before giving Wells a firm expression Hartley couldn't make out. Wells took a deep breath in through his nose and then _rolled his eyes_ before turning his impatient gaze on Hartley.

The exchange between the two was baffling to the point of comedic, and Hartley would have had difficulty containing his amusement were it not for the fact that he was completely dumbfounded. Never in his life, in all of the years spent with Doctor Harrison Wells, in any of their most jovial and intimate conversations, had Wells _rolled his eyes_. Metaphorically, maybe. The man had a way of staring someone down that clearly indicated his lack of patience, but the expression alone was enough to convey his thoughts. When the man before him then decided to expand upon The Flash's summary of events with a wide and exaggerated shrug, Hartley was stunned.

"You're not Harrison Wells," he said, his heart skipping several beats as the realization began to sink in.

"In point of fact I _am_ Harrison Wells, Mr. Rathaway," the man corrected, his voice rougher, more gravelly, but still unmistakably that of Hartley's former mentor. "Just not the Harrison Wells you once knew."

Hartley wanted to protest. He wanted to object, to continue to deny what he was being told. There was still a chance this was all an elaborate ruse, that Wells' team of misfits had worked to come up with an outlandish scenario that was just this side of possible, assuming Hartley was willing to buy into the idea that the theoretical was... Real. The problem was that Hartley couldn't think of a reason _why_ they'd lie to him like this. If they wanted to keep him from killing Wells, all they had to do was keep him where he was now, no explanation required.

"Why are you telling me this?" Hartley asked, finally tearing his gaze from Wells and darting between Cisco and The Flash. There had to be a reason he was being made privy to this information.

"Good question," Cisco muttered. Hartley raised an eyebrow at him, inviting elaboration. Unlike usual, however, Cisco appeared determined to say as little to him as humanly possible.

The fact that Ramon's nose was so bent out of shape over what was transpiring, however, only served to make Hartley more curious.

"Harry's not the only person to come through from Earth-2," The Flash explained, turning to face Hartley properly again. "There've been other metas coming through the breaches—"

"The Blue Flash," Hartley realized. He supposed that it would make sense that if there was another Harrison Wells that there'd be another Flash.

"His name is Zoom," The Flash explained, his tone taking on a heaviness that caught Hartley's attention. "He's... He's bad news. The only thing he cares about is speed, being the fastest. He tried sending metas through the breaches to kill me, and he's stolen the speed of other speedsters."

"I fail to see how this has anything to do with me," Hartley shrugged.

"Zoom kills people, Hartley," Cisco spoke up, stepping forward. "I know that you're a self-centered psychopath who believes the universe is focused entirely on you alone, but the rest of us live in the real world and would kind of like to continue living here."

" _Calmarse, Cisquito. El pánico es inapropiado en este momento_ ," Hartley tsked.

Cisco opened his mouth and took another step toward Hartley's cell, an action which only earned a wider grin from Hartley. Before Cisco had a chance to speak, however, The Flash held out a hand to caution his companion.

"We need your help, Hartley," The Flash said, finally getting to the point.

Hartley actually laughed. When the expressions of the men before him remained somber, Hartley once again got the impression that what should have been a joke was in fact very serious.

"No," Hartley scoffed and shook his head. "What makes you think I'd help you with anything?"

"Zoom isn't going to be content with just taking my speed or killing me. He's been terrorizing Earth 2 for over a year now, he's killed dozens of people and he's set to kill even more. We can't stop him— _I_ can't stop him," The Flash said, stepping close enough to the glass of Hartley's cell that he could see the way his eyes shined wetly.

It was everything Hartley had not to take a step back from the raw show of emotion. He wasn't used to that kind of unguarded display, that depth of sincerity. Especially not from people he was used to thinking of as stupid puppets under Harrison Wells' control.

"You are one of the only people who has ever been able to stop me, to find a way to counter my speed. You did it to Zoom earlier tonight, too."

And at that Hartley frowned. He knew that he'd nearly killed The Flash the year prior, it was true, but earlier in the evening he was pretty sure that he was the one who'd nearly died. Then again, the howl the demon speedster had made when he'd activated his gauntlets had definitely sounded like pain. Hartley's memories were a little fuzzy from being thrown through a car window, though.

"He destroyed your gloves. We need you to build them again, or build something like them, that can be used against Zoom," The Flash explained.

Hartley snorted derisively.

"Do you really think it's that simple, Flash?" he asked "I had to let myself be captured so that I could hack into S.T.A.R. Labs' database and obtain the frequency at which you vibrate when you're using your speed — a frequency which, by the way, is now out of date based on how fast you were going this evening. How is it that you expect me to build something to take out this other speedster when I have no access to any of his biometric information?"

"You don't need Zoom's exact frequency," Wells broke in.

Hartley couldn't help staring. He wasn't used to such stupidity coming out of the mouth of Harrison Wells.

Seemingly unconcerned with Hartley's incredulity, however, the New Wells continued. "Now, I'm far from being an expert in the physics of sound—"

"You don't say," Hartley drawled sarcastically. He had to admit, it felt _good_ to be able to talk back to Harrison Wells' face. Even if it wasn't the right Harrison Wells.

Glaring icily at Hartley for a moment, Wells continued as though he had not been interrupted.

"So long as you get a close enough approximation to the frequency you can cause enough distortion to at least be an impediment, correct?" 

"Hypothetically," Hartley frowned. "It'd be a disgustingly inadequate and inefficient use of such technology, though."

"We don't need it to be perfect, we just need it to work," The Flash insisted.

"Excuse you," Hartley said, actually offended. "While 'good enough' might be the standard of work you've become accustomed to with the likes of Ramon heading up the labs, perfect is the _only_ standard of work I produce."

"Cisco, don't," The Flash intervened yet again before the young engineer could muster a response.

"You know what? It's cool, man. Let him talk shit all he wants. At the end of the day his perfect ass is stuck in a cell that's more than 'good enough' to keep him locked up, right?" Cisco shrugged with a forced casualness. 

Electing to ignore the bait being presented, Hartley focused his attention on The Flash once more.

"I still don't see what's in this for me," he said before shifting his weight. Standing was growing more and more difficult the longer he did it, whatever sedative or painkiller he'd been provided with in his unconscious state now beginning to ebb from his system.

"If you make us the tech we need to slow Zoom down, you're free to go."

Hartley sneered at the offer, actually letting out a laugh.

"What's to stop me from walking out or skipping town?" he asked, raising an eyebrow critically as he crossed his arms over his chest.

"You try that and The Flash will snatch you up and throw your ass right back in this cell before you can even figure out which pretentious hideaway to flee to," Cisco said.

Hartley couldn't help snickering, picking a hand up to cover his mouth. He wasn't even trying to be rude this time, he honestly hadn't been able to hold the laughter in.

"You haven't got the time to waste tracking me down and bringing me back, not if this Zoom character is as dangerous as you say he is," he pointed out, feeling confidence start to return. He hadn't anticipated failing in his attempted revenge again, but the desperation of his former colleagues was proving rather delightful. They deserved to squirm.

In another display of sincerity Hartley had not been prepared for, The Flash reached up and removed his cowl. Hartley'd seen his face in photos that had been attached to records kept by S.T.A.R. Labs, and he'd seen the man's silhouette the last time he'd been in this cell. This was the first time he found himself staring the man in the face, however, and Hartley couldn't help but to notice the sheer exhaustion etched into the dark circles under his eyes and the deep crease between his brows.

"You're right," the unmasked hero said, his voice croaking slightly. "I don't have the time to hunt you down. If you leave, then you leave. You'd be taking the last shot we've got at stopping Zoom with you, and there's nothing I or anyone else here could do about it. But I don't think you're going to do that if we let you out."

"Oh? Is precognition a part of your power set now?" Hartley smirked. He knew what was coming, and he could already feel his teeth beginning to rot from the saccharine overture.

"No," The Flash said, giving a brief smile of his own. "You're not going to leave because you care about people, Hartley. It's why you tried to stop Dr. Wells — Eobard — two years ago. You were willing to sacrifice your job, your reputation, your career, and your friendship with Harrison Wells to try and save the people of Central City. No one does something like that if they're not a good person, deep down."

It was Hartley's turn to roll his eyes, though he paused to stare for several prolonged seconds at a tile on his ceiling. The continued exposure to bright lights was what caused his eyes to start to burn, nothing more. Squeezing them tightly shut for several seconds, Hartley dropped his face so that he could massage the bridge of his nose and under his eyes. Hartley's attention had started wander as the pain in his arms and his ribs began to radiate across the whole of his body. His legs hadn't sustained any damage, but the fatigue of keeping the rest of him upright was starting to make his thighs and calves burn distressingly. Hartley tried to focus on the physical sensations of his body, doing his best to measure his breathing despite the pain of broken ribs. He needed to lay down and he needed to do it soon.

"One condition," Hartley finally sighed as he adjusted his glasses before lifting his gaze to his captors.

"Aw hell nah," Cisco objected immediately.

"Cisco—"

"No, man, this is bullshit. It's bad enough that we have to come begging to this massive tool for help saving the world, and now he's going to hold us ransom with conditions?" Cisco yelled.

While Hartley could understand Cisco's frustration, he couldn't help being more than a little insulted.

"Not to interrupt your tantrum or anything," Hartley said with a poisonous smile, "But in this scenario if I were to be holding anything ransom, it would technically be the world. That's alright, though, you've never let being wrong get in your way before, so please continue."

Cisco's face turned a shade of red that was almost purple, but rather than engage he took several physical steps back and away from Hartley's cell. Hartley was nervous for a moment that the devious engineer would do something like turn off all the lights and close the door between his prison cell and the pipeline, but Cisco seemed to have enough respect for The Flash, at the very least, to not interfere.

"What do you want, Hartley?" The Flash asked, and that same exhaustion colored his tone. He had the look of a man at the end of his rope, out of patience for any and all pleasantries and pretexts.

Hartley paused for a moment to consider. He was in a precarious position, no matter what kind of power he held over the men in front of him. They needed him, but he needed them to let him out first and foremost. He had to pick his battles very carefully.

"You can't keep me down here," he said, drawing himself up to his fullest height at the demand. Before anyone could object, Hartley decided to risk a bit of vulnerability. If The Flash was being sincere with him, then hopefully he'd respect Hartley's sincerity over this in return.

"I can't stay down here," he said, locking eyes with and speaking directly to The Flash. "The quiet is too much, to the point where it's anything _but_ quiet. The only thing to do in here is to count the minutes between the light cycles. I..." Hartley paused to take another series of shallow breaths, trying his best to keep the edge of anxiety out of his voice.

With the way The Flash was looking at him, however, Hartley wasn't sure he'd succeeded.

"You can't keep me down here," Hartley insisted one last time, dropping his arms to his sides.

The Flash stared at him silently for several seconds, and Hartley maintained his gaze with a glare of his own. He wasn't about to beg, he wasn't in that desperate of a position yet, but he'd be lying to himself if he didn't admit that he was hoping that his discomfort would be conveyed to his captor effectively.

Finally, The Flash blinked and turned to look over his shoulder.

"Cisco," he said tiredly, "Open the door."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **TRANSLATIONS:**  
>  _Merde_ ; French; Literally: "Shit"  
>  _Acta non verba_ ; Latin; Translation: Deeds, not words (Hartley's basically being a little shit and daring Zoom to shut up and kill him already.)  
>  _Calmarse, Cisquito. El pánico es inapropiado en este momento._ ; Spanish; Translation: Calm down, Cisco. Panic is unbecoming/improper at this time. (Thanks to AO3 user Katzerover for the Spanish translation.)
> 
> Hi everyone! I'm new-ish to this fandom. This fic was started back in January of 2016 but what with trying to finish my last semester in university I didn't get around to finishing the chapter and posting it until now. The fic diverges pretty obviously from the show's continuity at this point, which I knew it was going to, but hopefully y'all will enjoy it just the same. We're all pretty much down for AU's anyway, right? Right. I mentioned that the fic is canon compliant up to and including most events through Season 2, Episode 12. I'm pretending that the last minute or so of that episode didn't happen for now, because obviously the team did not venture off to Earth-2 but instead came up with an alternate plan.
> 
>  
> 
> **MASSIVE DISCLAIMER:**
> 
> I have almost 0 exposure to The Flash comics continuity, or most any DC Comics continuity. My DC comic loves are Booster Gold and Ted Kord as the Blue Beetle, and while The Flash and Kid Flash have wandered their way into Booster Gold's time traveling nonsense post-52 I'm almost completely ignorant as to The Flash's characterization, history, villains, etc. so far as the comics are concerned. The DCWverse TV shows, however, I am more than a little obsessed with.
> 
> This fic will be leaning very, very heavily on the TV show for characterization, character descriptions, and plot continuity. I am aware that there are severe divergences from the comics, so you have been forewarned. About the only thing I have planned out of the gate that even glances at the comics is with regard to Hartley's deafness.
> 
> All of that being said, thank you so much for taking the time to read! I look forward to sharing more writing with you soon, please don't be afraid to hit me up in the comments, I love to chat.


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